Caught Redhanded
by accio-ambition
Summary: Felicity tries her hand at notching an arrow on an evening alone in the Foundry and learns that the Internet is not the best teacher out there.


The bow sat in its case in the Foundry and taunted her every time she was alone, just as it did now. In theory, she could shoot it: she'd read enough WikiHows and watched enough YouTube tutorials to calculate the correct trajectory to hit an assailant at point blank in an instant. But neither Oliver nor Digg would let her close enough to even breathe near it.

But what they never knew wouldn't hurt them, right?

There was some sort of fundraiser tonight, one Felicity neither wanted to attend nor was invited to. Oliver still had to make an appearance, despite having recently become kinda-sorta broke off his ass. So far as she and Diggle could tell, Oliver was still sleeping on the cot in the Foundry. But he was valiantly trying to regain his position of CEO at Queen Consolidated and once again unite his family name with good business. It was a struggle, for sure, but for the one and only Oliver Queen, nothing was impossible.

For the foreseeable future, Felicity had the Foundry to herself. And, seeing as she had spent the last twenty minutes perusing the police scanner, finding nothing unusual to report and receiving no urgent calls from Detective Lance, and spinning around in her chair, target practice seemed like a viable way to pass the time.

She sprung up from her chair and approached the glass case. She reached her hand out to grab it, but stopped herself a few inches away. The weight of the bow was important, she'd read, in the handling of the instrument. An archer frequently set certain knobs to certain levels, tightening the string and loosening the curve of the bow. Oliver would knew in an instant if something was off, but what if his settings didn't work for her? Or what if she broke it trying to change or return the knobs to their original positions?

And then, in one of her few blonde moments, Felicity remembered that _she_ acquired this bow for the Arrow. He'd kept it and used it in all his endeavors. She _knew_ what Oliver wanted, even before she really knew him that well. She could most definitely make this bow Oliver's again.

After she borrowed it.

Picking up the bow, she felt the weight in her right hand before passing it to her left, testing which one it felt more natural in. Deciding she felt more control with her right hand firing, she grabbed one of the blunt arrows from the display (she knew better than to trust herself with any sort of sharp object. Knowing her, she'd probably aim for the target and end up severing the LAN connection or the security system's power.)

Felicity walked over to the line drawn on the ground. When Oliver hurt his arm and needed to ease himself back into shooting, he'd start at this line and work his way up, much like he start the salmon ladder from the bottom and launched his way up. Not that she knew too much about that. Or, you know, studied him when he did that particular exercise. She set up her stance, but, still a little hesitant with herself, she took five steps in front of the line and faced the bull's-eye about fifteen, twenty feet in front of her.

Bow at her side, she notched the arrow in place. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and raise the contraption. She pulled back the bowstring and let the arrow fly.

It clattered to the ground not five feet from her.

She huffed and relaxed her posture. "C'mon," she mumbled to herself, ashamedly retrieving the arrow. She'd done everything she'd read about and drew on all her memories of Oliver's skill, so shouldn't the arrow have at least _hit_ the target board? She wasn't asking for a bull's-eye (although that would've awesome), but, you know, hitting the floor was kind of a letdown.

"Your elbow wasn't high enough," a voice said from the steps. Felicity whirled around as her cheeks began to color and her confidence began to shrink just a bit.

"And you're supposed to be at City Hall kissing babies and shaking hands," she countered. That earned her one of those smiles Oliver only ever shared with her. "It's rude to enter a room unannounced. I feel like someone who grew up with a butler and the entire downstairs from Downton Abbey would know that. And when did you manage to learn to come down metal steps in dress shoes without making a sound? I can tell when Digg is on his way down here because I can hear his heel slamming on Verdant's floor from the Earth's core. But I guess Digg didn't have to survive in a jungle for five years and rely on instinct and, by the way, where is…"

Oliver merely stood on the Foundry's stairs and tilted his head to the side. While Felicity's babblings were endearing, he really did wonder how she started at one topic and ended at such a completely different one.

"You really need to tell me when I'm rambling," she said, embarrassed at the unending stream of consciousness flowing from her mouth. As Oliver made his way silently into the center of their headquarters, Felicity held out his bow and the single arrow and hung her head. "I'm sorry, but I thought you wouldn't be back for a while."

Oliver shook his head. "I couldn't really stand any of those big shots right now. I kind of just wanted to spend the evening in." He came up beside her and nudged her chin up until their eyes met. Nonchalantly, he said, "I sent Diggle home to Lyla. He deserved a night of peace as well."

Felicity chuckled. "Especially with the endless nights of a crying baby ahead of him."

He nodded his head and gave her a reassuring smile. Dropping his hand from her chin, Oliver motioned to his namesake. "Set up again."

"Oh, well, now that you're here, I'll just go back to…"

"Felicity," he interrupted her. "If you wanted to learn, all you had to do was ask."

The blonde meekly nodded her head, mumbling something about independence, and Oliver's grin spread wider. He knew she wasn't helpless, but she was as obstinate about maintaining her independence as ever.

When she pulled back the bowstring, he lifted her elbow so it ran parallel with the floor. "This'll give you more control and power," he told her. Then he shifted both her arms up so her fingers holding back the arrow brushed her cheek. "The higher and closer to your sightline, the better your aim will be." Oliver took a turn around her and stopped with his chest to her back. He didn't comment on the sound of her intake in breath, but he couldn't not hear it. Placing his hands on her hips, he gently twisted her upper body. "It doesn't hurt when your entire body is lined up with the target."

She gave a minute nod in response, but stayed silent. He removed his hands from her hips, but slid one up so it rested on her waist.

"Take a deep breathe," he instructed her, watching her eyes flutter shut as she inhaled, "and let go."

Felicity heard the zing of the arrow leaving its stead and, thankfully, didn't hear it clack on the concrete ground. When she opened her eyes, she found the arrow sunk into the second ring of the target.

"Not bad," Oliver commented, moving his hand up to rest in between her shoulder blades as she relaxed into her normal posture. "Nothing a little practice won't fix."

"Really?" she innocently asked. Her face, she could tell, lit up like the Christmas morning she'd received her first desktop.

Oliver laughed and dazed her with that unique smile. "Of course." He left her side and retrieved the arrow. "Just don't go notching arrows when me or Digg aren't around." He handed her the arrow. "Wouldn't want to accidentally hurt anything."

Felicity met his gaze and gratefully accepted the arrow. "Terms and conditions accepted. So, what's the next lesson?"

**a/n: so i wrote this under the olicity flashfic prompt redhanded. it was also my first foray into writing arrow and oliver/felicity. feel free to leave me a word about what you think. have a wonderful day :)**


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